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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen
Showing posts with label be careful what you wish for. Show all posts
Showing posts with label be careful what you wish for. Show all posts

Thursday, September 19, 2013

The Morrigan

source
You think you want me, 
that I am what you desire
Fool, you don't know me
You don't even begin to understand
My fierceness would make you tremble
My fight would make you cower
You may dress in black
and line your eyes with kohl
but I can see the fear
that lives there
When you feel the whisper
of my raven feathers and the word
"No" catches in your throat,
it will be too late
Don't say I didn't warn you.

in which we are asked to write about a Celtic (or other) god. I went with the Morrigan, Celtic goddess of Death and War


Friday, September 6, 2013

The Unexpected Stripper

source
Raven had been working as a stripper at the Pussycat Palace
going on 3 years
She was a beautiful girl
skin dark,
eyes like blue ice,
hair shiny
and inky black as a well-oiled glock

Raven didn't love her job;
she didn't hate it either
It beat bagging groceries or
hostessing at the I-Hop

Raven was working the late shift
The moon was round and full,
a fat man's stomach after an all-you-can-eat buffet
It was closing time
Last dance
before the patrons wandered off,
lost to the night

Raven took the stage,
swayed to the techno music
and began to doubt
the trajectory her life was taking

She had stripped down
to stilettos, pasties, g-string,
and a black, feather boa
The dollars were accumulating by her feet,
wet with sweat
from desperate men's hands

From somewhere in the crowd, Raven heard,
"Take it off, baby! Take it all off!"
Raven was an accommodating and literal minded girl
so off came the pasties, and g-string,
then the shoes and the boa
The men shouted louder

Raven looked at the crowd
Sparks shot from her obsidian eyes
She grinned
Then she began to peel off her skin
Slowly
First, one arm
then the other
Gently yanking the skin from her fingers
as if it were a cashmere glove
Then her torso, her legs,
and lastly, her face

The men were stunned silent
No one moved
Next, Raven took off muscle,
tossing the scarlet chunks of flesh into the crowd
like they were signed T-shirts and she a rock star
She stuck out her tongue
at the guy who had grabbed her boob earlier that evening
She plucked out her eyes
and dropped them like ice cubes
into the drink of the guy who had called her a slut

She was bone beautiful
No one asked for a lap dance
Raven was relieved,
as it was near impossible to twerk
having no ass
The music ended and Raven
picked up the dollars,
stashed them in her eye holes,
and sashayed away

No one would ever forget
that night at the Pussycat Palace
and no one would ever speak of it.


submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Friday, Build a Title
and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 124

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Status: Deluge

source
You want to know my secrets,
to spill the words over you
like shimmering water to quench flowers in the park
But some secrets should stay secret
Some waters should remain still
for when they begin to trickle,
they may just spew on the page
and splash up in your face
Raging jets of hurt
that will not be curbed
Once the storm has begun,
you can't stop the thunder
So step carefully
in this yard
or you may find yourself 
knee deep in water.

submitted for the Sunday Whirl, Wordle 112

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Maybe She Will

image by Zelko Nedic
She comes to me in dreams real as Earth
Divine succubus
Her silken wings become my blindfold
Her ebony tresses my chains
I, her servant of the midnight,
willingly succumb to her spell
From my mind's mad stirrings
emerges a wild hope
a plea I dare not voice
(Maybe she will stay)
Evil enchantress
She hears my thoughts 
 leaves her calling card-
 black dog with eyes of fire
Now I know that it is I
who will be going soon.

submitted for The Mag, Mag 128